


Speak of the Devil

by purrplekat1989



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is a brat, Demon Summoning, Gen, Kidnapping, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-07-31 17:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20119234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrplekat1989/pseuds/purrplekat1989
Summary: Crowley whump. I have no idea where I'm going with this at this point.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My_Soul_and_Perfume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Soul_and_Perfume/gifts).

> Idk I'm just making this up as i go along. Thanks to starbit for the beta.
> 
> Inspired by a lot of random fucking gifs of David Tennant tbqh.

"You said it would summon a snake. "

"I said it was supposed to summon a snake demon."

"Yeah well he doesn't look like a snake."

Crowley was quiet as he listened to the trio of humans in front of him bicker. He was trying to figure out the best way to escape the holding circle. He would deal with the other problems after that. Though the words he was hearing made him glad he had his sunglasses on.

"Be a dear and let me out. I'd hate to have to kill you." Crowley's voice was dripping with honey and temptation. It was what he was best at after all. 

Frightened eyes snapped up when he spoke, an expression of terrified determination crossing this human's face. "Tell me your name, demon." He took a step toward Crowley, slicing an athame across the pad of his thumb and holding it out toward the annoyed demon. A drop of red blossoming in response.

Of course it would be blood magic. He'd smelled it the second he'd come to. Some poor snake had been sacrificed to summon and bind him. "And if I don't?" It was a challenge. As with all binding spells it all came down to a battle of wills. Which Crowley fully intended to win.

Except that he was outnumbered. Three to one was such cheap odds that he could feel the disgust rising already. The droplet falling to the ground and splattering on the circle with a faint flash... followed by drops from the other two humans. Finishing the ritual. Satan he hated blood magic.

"Tell me your name. Obey." The command struck him like an ice pick to the eye. Pain blossoming ever stronger the longer he resisted answering, before finally pulling a strained sounding "... Anthony..." from him. "Ngk."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to @Cell0113 for the beta on this one.

Ten feet in diameter.

He'd certainly been held in smaller traps. But whatever the humans had done to this one was making him go a little stir crazy. Pacing the perimeter of it with the restless energy of a bored lion. His captors had spent the first couple of days trying to get him to shift into his serpent form.

Stubborn meet stubborn.

Crowley flinched and hissed as another bucket of water splashed him. He'd never considered that diluting holy water was a thing. Yet here he was. Each time they demanded he shift and he refused another splash of the water would hit him. Both icy and scalding at the same time. His skin was barely starting to blister. It had been two days of this.

"You know. You can put an end to this. Just do what I asked of you."

This man was clearly the leader of the trio. Also seemed to be the one with the most creativity. He'd fit in well in hell. The holding circle had been painted on both the floor and the ceiling for good measure.

Golden eyes narrowed at him.

"Bugger off."

He staggered to his feet again. Clothes sticking to his skin painfully. He yelped as his arm was grabbed. They'd never crossed the lines or gotten close enough for him to try anything. 

The hands pulled him off balance, dragging him to the edge of the circle. He yelled as his arm was pulled beyond his perimeter. Pain unlike anything he'd experienced before lancing through his body... And he'd been to hell literally. It suddenly didn't matter that he was giving them what they wanted, he shifted into his serpent form to escape the hold and curl up in the dead center of the trap. 

He hissed again, struggling against the hands that were suddenly on him once again. He had lost this fight. They had said they were after his venom, and he hadn't even been able to avoid having that stolen.

It was mortifying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buildup.
> 
> This chap isn't beta'd so sorry if there's mistakes.

He'd given them nicknames in his head. Barnum, Scooter, and Dash.

Barnum was the ringleader. Hence the name. The other two generally went along with anything he said. He was smart. Creative. Something that Crowley was finding equal parts annoying,  frightening , and angering. 

Scooter and Dash were the underlings. Henchmen so to speak. Scooter, a mousy girl in her mid twenties, had earned her name from her penchant to keep to the walls unless directly told to do something. Scoot scoot, always keeping the demon in visual range despite the traps and wards preventing him from going anywhere.

Dash was fast. He'd been the one to grab Crowley the first time he'd shifted into his serpent form. Guiding protesting fangs to the jar that would contain the venom that was spent. He'd also been the one to tape the struggling demon's mouth closed to prevent unwanted bites.

He didn't currently have the energy to shift between forms again. So instead he coiled himself up, resting chin on scaled spine, and glared at the humans outside the circle. 

Barnum leaned against a wall, looking thoughtful for a moment before turning to Dash. "You saw how much the venom sold for... What do you think we could get for some of his scales?" The question was soft enough Crowley almost didn't hear it. The glare intensified. His powers were currently as contained as his corporation within the trap or he would have used a demonic intervention and... Set the trio on fire or something equally horrible.

\----------

The edge of the circle might as well have been a physical thing for Crowley. It explained why it had been so incredibly excruciating when they'd pulled his arm over the boundary. For now, he was using it as a point of contact as he shifted and dragged himself to his feet. Wadding up the tape into a ball and lobbing it at the trio. "You can't... Bloody... Have them." He hissed, yellow eyes narrowed dangerously in warning. The glasses long since broken and discarded in a scuffle.

"Really Anthony? You're just making this more difficult for yourself." Barnum said, the power he held over the demon had obviously started going to his head. 

"Give me an even playing field and we'll see if you still think that." Crowley challenged, forcing himself to stand without leaning out of sheer stubborn.

The trio seemed to have disbanded for the evening. Left one-on-one with their leader had Crowley a little more hopeful about being able to escape the predicament he had found himself in. The human’s fingers trailed idly over the spine of the book they kept referring to when they needed a spell or to touch up the trap after Crowley’s attempts at rubbing away part of the lines. 

“You seem to think that I’m threatened by your little book.” the demon’s voice said, hovering around patronizing for the time being.

“I don’t. I think it’s useful for what I need to do.” he looked down at it, flipping open to one of the more dog-eared pages. Oh Aziraphale would have pitched such a fit if he could see the state of that particular book. “Your human form is of no use to me, serpent. I bind you to my will.” A knife Crowley hadn’t seen being drawn was dragged across the human’s wrist. The spell needed a larger blood sacrifice to be effective than just a drop of two. 

There was a blinding flash at the splash of blood on the ground. At least it was blinding to Crowley, causing him to flinch and cover his eyes. Fighting an impulse to reflexively shift into the form that the human wanted him to be in for a few seconds before giving in. 

“Mmm. Good boy. Now...”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is getting worried that Crowley has been missing.

Aziraphale paced the length of the back room. It was unlike Crowley to not show up for their lunches. Had happened once... Maybe twice in the space of time since they had unofficially started meeting. Were the demon here he'd have been teasing Az about wearing a rut in the carpet and wasn't pacing more his thing anyway?

There was a tentative knock on the frame of the entry to the -technically open- shop. "Mr. Fell?" The voice sounded American... And nervous. 

He composed himself, straightening his tie before stepping out of the back. "Yes hello!" The bright façade quickly dropped to one of curiosity as his eyes landed on the other. A much younger angel. Obviously nervous at the unannounced visit. He felt very young. "How can I help?"

"Um... Head office has noticed an... An imbalance. They wanted me to check on it?" He looked very nervous by being there. What had they been letting others believe Aziraphale was? "And I figured since this has been your territory I'd see if you knew anything?"

Aziraphale looked the boy over. Soft sandy blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed trustworthy, but then again so did most angels at first glance... And since Aziraphale didn't trust head office as far as he could throw them he was wary of asking this newcomer for help in finding his missing demon. 

"Forgive me, but who are you?" Aziraphale finally asked, having studied the other in silence for several long seconds. He seemed for all the world just a sweet young man, the only thing outstandingly angelic about him was the nearly overpowering feeling of happiness he gave off.

"Oh! Sorry. I'm Jareiel. I'm in charge of giving joy." If the following smile was anything to go by, he was certainly good at his role. Perhaps he could be of help after all.


End file.
